


Late Night Jitters

by mandaree1



Category: Codename: Kids Next Door
Genre: Abby has Issues, Addiction- KND Style, Everybody has issues honestly, Gen, It fails, There is an attempted intervetion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 03:03:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8311501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandaree1/pseuds/mandaree1
Summary: Numbuh 5 is invited aboard Stickybeard's ship for a night of sugar and peace. She agrees.





	

Numbuh 5 is just on her way to lunch, backpack draped across her shoulders, when two sets of hands grab her.

She fights and struggles, but she doesn't yell, for the singular reason that her assailants have taken her through the Kindergarten hall. They know her well, it seems; or, at the very least, know the vows of an operative- to leave innocent kids out of affairs, no matter what the personal cost. Numbuh 5 nips her tongue and focuses on soothing the sting to keep herself from becoming panicked. There's nothing to worry about. Once the others realize she didn't show up for chow they'll get worried and come looking for her.

They slowly inch her out the side door into the old brick alleyway, fighting for that every inch. Abby might be caught, but that doesn't mean she can't drag her feet and force her body weight against walls. She's about ready to stop with the niceties and rip her arms free, as there's no reason to play this game anymore, when a familiar laugh sets her stomach low with the realization that she wasn't even looking for trouble and she's already knee-deep in it.

The familiar visage of Stickybeard is a rather unwelcome one. On the scale of villains, the pirate typically let himself be comfortable as small fry, but that doesn't mean he didn't have the men and gunpowder to take out entire bases, if he thought they had something he wanted desperately enough.

Still. Abby can't deny that he's fun to mess with.

His lips curled into a mocking smile as he bent slightly to examine her, hands on his hips. "Well, now. I never thought I'd see the day ye be captured so easily, lassie."

The two holding her push her forward. Numbuh 5 lets herself fall that way, catching a whiff of Stickybeard's sugar-coated breath, then uses the force of it to swing back and dislodge herself from them, chucking them unceremoniously at Stickybeard's feet. It's the two French midgets, which only makes her mood sour more. None of Stickybeard's crew are exactly nice, but for some reason they got on her nerves the most. Maybe it was the terrible accents; coming from a girl who lived in a house of different accents and talks, from French to Ebonics to the multitude of other languages Abby and Cree had both learned on the job, Chinese to Spanish to so much more, that actually _meant_ something.

"What makes you think Numbuh 5 was ever actually caught?" She challenges, clapping imaginary dust off her hands. "Maybe I just wanted to take it outside the school. What then?"

Stickybeard laughs. He sounds overjoyed. "I'd say yer still fairly stuck, lassie. Ye got no backup, after all."

Numbuh 5 reaches into her pocket and pulls out her communicator. "Not for long, Stickybun."

"Ah?" He growls eloquently. "There's no need fer that, lassie. I ain't here ta' fight."

"Coulda fooled me."

"Yarr, I hope I did. It's far more fun that way." A gloved hand touched the top of the communicator, pushing it down from her ear but not snatching it away. Numbuh 5 eyed him warily. "I came to invite ya' to a party."

Abby's whole posture changes. Her shoulders slump as her eyebrows raise. She looks miffed and amused and confused all at once.

"A party." She states.

"Aye, a party."

"And _that's_ why you sent ya goons after me? To invite me to a _party_?"

Stickybeard shrugged. "Well, how else was I supposed ta' tell ya? When you aren't off wastin' daylight at school, yer in that silly treehouse 'a yours." He shoots her a look that questioned her morality. "Ye barely ever even go on candy hunts. It's insultin', watching talent like yers be caged."

"I've got a _job_. As an _operative_."

"Don't they have places fer candy hunters?"

Numbuh 5 ignores his insistent badgering. That's private KND information. "What kinda party we talkin' about, Stickybun?"

"A candy party, of course! Tonight, me and me men plan to pass the night away on me ship, and _yer_ invited to partake in the festivities."

Numbuh 5 blinks at him. "Huh?"

"You heard me, lassie." He shuffled his peg leg.

"Alright. Stupid question." She knows it leaves her more open for a surprise attack, but Abby rubs the bridge of her nose, effectively hindering her vision of jerks and pirates. "Why?"

"Yarr!" He cheers, clawing the air with his candy-cane hook. She wonders how long he's been waiting for that question to be so excited to reach it and get over the verbal hurdle. "Because, lassie- ye may be my greatest rival, but ye can hold yer sugar better than most of me crew. Ye'll be a welcome ball 'o destruction fer the night, so long as ye don't touch me stash."

Numbuh 5 is starting to smile now. Her arms cross. "You just wanna try and out-drink me, dontcha?"

"Aye." He answered without pause, shrugging. "I'll get ye yet, lassie."

Numbuh 5 felt a familiar urge. A scratch in her throat; a restlessness in her limbs. There was a great danger in bunking on a pirate ship overnight, but there was also a great number of sweets involved. It was only really a danger to herself, as well; no amount of sugar had ever loosened her lips (she'd tested that), and the others in her Sectuh would be safe at home, sleeping. Her family was well-used to her not coming home at night, busy with her duties as an operative, so they wouldn't second-glance the empty seat at the dinner table.

She feels a slow grin cross her face. "Numbuh 5's game if you are."

* * *

Numbuh 5 has always had a love-hate relationship with lying. On one hand, it's a great tool to reassure your friends you're normal and nothing's new before clunking up the steps of one of your Sectuh's most familiar enemy's ship. On the other hand, however, a good lie is also something a leader should master, assuring distraught parents that their child merely fell into a pricker bush or convincing operatives it'll be okay when it really won't be, and Abby hates being likened to a leader, even after taking the position of second command and even higher more than once.

Still, she doesn't feel a lick of guilt. Probably because she made sure to ask Numbuh 1 for the day off tomorrow. He gave her a long, searching look, then awkwardly reminded her to make sure she was alert and able, as enemies could be anywhere.

He knows. The boy knows, but it's not like there's much he can do about it. Numbuh 5 is strides older than him, and sometimes uses it to her advantage.

It's a half-hour jog. Stickybeard wouldn't make this easy on her, and she doesn't want a pavement-ripping ship outside her house, so it's a good deal. It's a slightly chilly night, but not enough so to warrant a jacket. There's nothing out there she can't handle, so the dark doesn't spook her.

Thankfully, however, the outside of the ship is lit up with torches. It's hard to chug when you can barely see the mug.

Abby pulls the bag on her back closer. She's brought gifts, but it's always hard to tell with pirates. She hopes they don't notice it's mostly cheap store-bought candy bars. Her own personal stash is running low, and today was too soon to travel the world in search of new treasures. She took in a deep breath and managed a smooth stroll up the thin wooden bridge perched on the side, feeling it bend under her weight as she does. She stops just under the railing.

"Permission to come aboard?" She calls. Best not to take any chances.

"Lassie!"

Numbuh 5 won't deny that she lets out a yelp as she's hoisted up by the hook on her backpack. Stickybeard's obviously downed a few as he drops her onto the deck, laughing. "'Bout time ye showed up!"

"Ain't exactly a short walk, Stickybun." She hums, regaining her cool demeanor. His presence is calming, in a sense; no pirate is gonna go against their Captain. "Did I miss the opening cookies?"

"I'll take that." He crows, and Numbuh 5 passively pulls her arms out from the straps. He chucks the backpack at a passing crew member. "Well, _he'll_ take that."

"I better get that bag back in the morning." She calls. The candy doesn't bother her, really. She'll get it back in the next raid.

"Forget yer worries, lassie." Stickybeard leads her with a hand on her shoulder, heading for the main part of the deck. Pirates lay sprawled out, leaning against barrels and crates as they chew gumballs and swallow soda. "Find a seat. We don't bite nothin' but sweets right now."

The night passes slowly. Stickybeard shoves a few mugs down her throat before demanding a drink-off. It's cheating, and underhanded in an obvious way, but Abby doesn't mind. It's not like he'll ever beat her.

A couple of lackeys get into a wrestling contest, and she whoops and cheers like everybody else. With this much sugar in her and no weapons, she really is no different from her gruffer companions. She thinks there might have been an attempt at throwing a play at one point, but it's hard to recall.

After a sword fight on the railings that almost costs her a broken bone and sends a guy falling off the side into the bushes below, Numbuh 5 calls it quits. It's almost dawn, and she's one of the few left.

"Ya goin' sugar-free on me, lass?" Stickybeard quips, wobbling as he gets to his already off-center feet.

"I've had three times what you had, peg-leg!" She calls, and is proud to not be nonsensical. She still slurs, but at least she ain't blubbering like that guy who stubbed his toe. "Numbuh 5's goin' to bed."

"Er, alright." He decides. For some reason the netting reminds her of a hammock, and Abby pulls herself into the slack of it, whistling in the breeze. "But ya better be gone 'fore we lift anchor tomorrow!"

She hears him thunk and stick away. She buzzes pleasantly under her skin, and Abby thinks she ought to drink with pirates more often.

* * *

She never really falls asleep, coming back to her sensibilities in incriminates as time scoots on by. She feels like she ate sand, and her head pounds, but pure sugar does that to you. She recognizes she's dangling high up with no safety should she take a tumble a little after the sun rises, but she's too exhausted to safely make her way back in. Thank goodness Stickybeard only sets off late in the afternoon.

Members of the crew slip by once in a while to pee or sneak some nugget, but they never seem to notice her. Abby keeps her breathing steady and limbs tucked like she's sleeping just in case she needs to make a surprise attack.

The arid scent of rocket fuel and smoke wafts into her nostrils around noon, and she's surprised anything can make it past the cloud of stench that is her dirty clothes. She hears jets coming closer, waits for the call to be sent about intruders, but it seems to be its own sneak attack.

Numbuh 5 feels conflicted. On one hand, these pirates had welcomed her on board and given her sweets, so it was only fair she warn them. But it's still Stickybeard, and she'd never feel comfortable warning him about anything. Her sluggish mind hums with indecision.

A hand gripping her by the ankle and lifting her, upside down, into the air effectively solves that problem, and she lets out a gritty yell, lashing out. She doesn't make contact with anything.

She knows it's Cree. She's trained with her too long not to. Her body reacts differently when her calloused hands hits it; less angry, more defensive, as if it still believes she's better. Her body may have gotten over her betrayal, but Numbuh 5's stomach bubbles with rage and tummyache.

"Well, what have we here?" She hums, dropping her a few centimeters away from the deck. She's not fast enough to catch herself, which is worrying. She's far better than that. "I came here to have some fun with those stuck-up gumdrops, and I found a rat instead."

"Like you're one to talk." She snarls, getting to her feet. It feels like she's in slow-motion, her instincts dulled, but really she's moving like a normal kid.

A kid with no problems. A kid who's never had to feel how Abby feels, or face Abby's demons. Lucky kid.

"Hey, at least _I_ never got sugar-high with the enemy." Cree points an accusing finger at her, but she feels no shame. Her voice then changes, softening, but Abby will never trust her kindness again. Not completely. "How many did you have?"

"Ain't none of your business." She says, but it sounds like, "ain' nona yer bidness."

"True, but I'm sure your leader will _love_ to know when I tell him." She smirks, like this is some great threat. Like she could ever leave herself that open to threats.

"Psh." Numbuh 5 waves it off. "Numbuh 1 knows. I told him myself."

Cree's frown tightens. "I'm sure your short-attention spans have given way to a bunch of changes to the role of leader since I left, but I'm fairly certain a leader still can't abide by a traitorous operative."

Abby tries to deduce her gain from this. If she's kicked out, it will only give her more time to thwart her plans. If she's decommissioned, she'll be useless to the cause. Her head is too blech to come to a quick conclusion, so she gives up. "He neva try it. He can't fight me."

"Your Ebonics gets thicker when you've been high." She observes. "Judging by that, you haven't had as much as I thought you had."

Abby's fingers pull into fists, but a gloved hand protectively wraps around her right shoulder before she can answer. "This problem need fixin', lassie?" Stickybeard rumbles, glaring at Cree. He sounds earnest in his anger.

"I got this, Stickybun." She answers, visibly putting effort into every syllable. "We was just leavin'."

"Good luck with this'un." He lowers his voice. "I don't appreciate it when landlubbers try an' corral folks like us."

 _Folks like us?_ Abby remembers her half-baked understanding from the night before, the feelings of solidarity, and found herself agreeing. If this were a dance, she'd be leading it. If this were an addiction, she'd have it.

Oh, wait. It is.

Cree leads her off the ship with a firm grip on her upper arm. Abby doesn't struggle, but she doesn't give in, either.

"Don't you have better things to do than hang with an oaf like Stickybeard?" Cree asks finally. They're perusing the sidewalks, and she finds herself avoiding the chance to look at the damage the ship had caused just from parking.

"Numbuh 5 got invited to a party."

"A party?"

"You heard me."

"So, you'd go to any party if it had candy?" She snaps bluntly, letting go of her arm. "If the Delightfuls were having teatime with caramels, would you join them?"

It's a mix of things that makes Abby try to pop her sister in the mouth, one of which being her disgruntled state. The whole statement seems loaded and fired, although not in any way Cree meant to do. There's a lot Cree doesn't know about her, now or then, either from guilt or fear of rejection or simple resentment.

It's the realization of what she's doing that makes her falter, and once again that day Cree's yanking her off the ground by a body part, this time by the wrist.

"What are you doing?" She asks coldly, and the question wriggles into Numbuh 5's mind like a worm. What _was_ she doing?

The image of Nigel's raw head comes to mind immediately, and she grimaces. She'd hoped to avoid that particular memory, if only for the day. "Numbuh 5 may like a bit of fun, but she ain't no traitor." She aims a kick to Cree's stomach, which misses. "She ain't _you_."

Cree's eyes flash. She drops her like dirty laundry.

"When will you get it through your head?" She hisses. The reminder of Nigel, this time with oxygen tubes in his nose and bandages on his head, was seared in her skull. "That Numbuh 5 _always_ has her reasons?"

**Author's Note:**

> I had a lot of fun with this one! I've written Abby and Cree before, both of whom I really like, but I realized I'd never written Abby as an addict and I had t to fix that.
> 
> I mean. It's literally canon. In the KND 'verse, at least.


End file.
